V.

Forc'd compliments, and formal bows,
Will show thee just above neglect:
The heat with which thy lover glows,
Will fettle into cold refpect:

A talking dull Platonic I fhall turn :
Learn to be civil, when I cease to burn.

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VI.

Then fhun the ill, and know, my dear,

Kindness and conftancy will prove

The only pillars, fit to bear

So vaft a weight as that of love.

If thou canst wish to make my flames endure,

Thine must be very fierce, and very pure.

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VII.

Hafte, Celia, hafte, while youth invites,

Obey kind Cupid's prefent voice;

Fill every fenfe with foft delights,

And give thy foul a loose to joys:

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Let millions of repeated bliffes prove

That thou all kindness art, and I all love.

VIII.

Be mine, and only mine; take care

Thy looks, thy thoughts, thy dreams, to guide
To me alone; nor come fo far,

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As liking any youth beside :

What men e'er court thee, fly them, and believe
They're ferpents all, and thou the tempted Eve.

IX.

So fhall I court thy dearest truth,

When beauty ceases to engage;

So, thinking on thy charming youth,

I'll love it o'er again in age:

So time itself our raptures fhall improve,
While still we wake to joy, and live to love.

D 3

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AN ODE.

HILE from our looks, fair nymph, you guefs
The fecret paffions of our mind;

My heavy eyes, you fay, confefs
A heart to love and grief inclin'd.

II.

There needs, alas! but little art
To have this fatal fecret found;
With the fame eafe you threw the dart,
'Tis certain you can fhew the wound.

III.

How can I fee e you, and not love,
While you as op'ning eaft are fair?
While cold as northern blafts you prove,
How can I love, and not despair?

IV.

The wretch in double fetters bound

Your potent mercy may

release:

Soon, if my love but once were crown'd,
Fair prophetefs, my grief would ceafe.

AN ODE TO A LADY.

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She refusing to continue a Difpute with me, and leaving me in the Argument.

SPAR

PARE, gen'rous victor, fpare the flave,
Who did unequal war purfue;

That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.

II.

In the difpute, whate'er I faid,
My heart was by my tongue belied;
And in my looks you might have read
How much I argued on your fide.

III.

You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have fuftain'd an open fight:

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For feldom your opinions err,
Your
eyes are always in the right.

IV.

Why, fair one, would you not rely
On reafon's force with beauty's join'd?
Could I their prevalence deny,

I must at once be deaf and blind.

V.

Alas! not hoping to fubdue,
I only to the fight aspir'd :
To keep the beauteous foe in view
Was all the glory I defir'd.

VI.

But fhe, howe'er of victory fure,
Contemns the wreath too long delay'd:
And arm'd with more immediate power,
Calls cruel filence to her aid.

VII.

Deeper to wound the fhuns the fight;
She drops her arms, to gain the field;
Secures her conquest by her flight;
And triumphs, when the feems to yield.

VIII.

So when the Parthian turn'd his fteed,
And from the hoftile camp withdrew,
With cruel fkill the backward reed
He fent; and, as he fled, he flew.

AN ODE.

THE merchant, to fecure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrow'd name :
Euphelia ferves to grace my measure;
But Cloe is my real flame.

II.

My fofteft verfe, my darling lyre,

Upon Euphelia's toilet lay;
When Cloe noted her defire,

That I should fing, that I should play.

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III.

My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my fighs;
And, whilft I fing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my foul on Cloe's eyes.

IV.

Fair Cloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd:

I fung, and gaz'd: I play'd, and trembled:
And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd how ill we all diffembled.

AN ODE.

PRESENTED TO THE KING,

ΤΟ

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On his Majesty's arrival in Holland, after the Queen's death, 1695.

Quis defiderio fit pudor aut modus
Tam cari capitis? præcipe lugubres
Cantus Melpomene.

AT Mary's tomb (fad facred place!)

The Virtues fhall their vigils keep,

And ev'ry Mufe and ev'ry Grace
In folemn state shall ever weep.

II

The future pious mournful fair,
Oft as the rolling years return,
With fragrant wreaths and flowing hair
Shall vifit her distinguish'd urn.

III.

For her the wife and great fhall mourn,
When late records her deeds repeat;
Ages to come and men unborn
Shall bless her name and figh her fate.
IV.

Fair Albion fhall, with faithful trust,
Her holy Queen's fad relics guard,
Till Heav'n awakes the precious dust,
And gives the faint her full reward.

V.

But let the King difmifs his woes,
Reflecting on his fair renown,
And take the cyprefs from his brows,
Το put his wonted laurels on.

VI.

If prefs'd by grief our monarch Loops,
In vain the British lions roar:

If he whofe hand fuftain'd them droops,
The Belgic darts will wound no more.

VII.

Embattled princes wait the chief

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Whofe voice should rule, whofe arm should lead,

And in kind murmurs chide that grief

Which hinders Europe being freed.

VIII.

The great example they demand
Who ftill to conqueft led the way,
Wishing him prefent to command,
As they stand ready to obey.

IX.

They seek that joy which us'd to glow
Expanded on the hero's face,

When the thick fquadrons prefs'd the foe,

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And William led the glorious chase.

X.

To give the mournful nations joy

Reffore them thy aufpicious light,

Great Sun! with radiant beams destroy

Those clouds which keep thee from our fight.

XI.

Let thy fublime meridian courfe

For Mary's fetting rays atone;
Our luftre, with redoubled force,
Muft now proceed from thee alone.

XII.

See, pious King! with diff'rent strife
Thy ftruggling Albion's bofom torn :
So much the fears for William's life
That Mary's fate fhe dare not mourn.

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